by Claire Davis
“Tork?” Then, even louder. “Tork! Open the bloody door.”
“Who is it?”
“Who is…” Adam started indignantly, but then stopped abruptly, remembering his last visit. He smirked. “It is I, Adam.”
“Adam who?”
Adam leaned against the door, peering at the tiny spyhole. He winked, giggling. “Adam Hunk, come to invade you,” he mouthed, knowing that Tork could see him.
The door opened at last, and there he was, like a manga animation. Even now, Adam found it hard to look straight at Tork, because doing so did things to his trousers that he couldn’t control.
Tork was stunning, always stunning: slim and strong, with almond-shaped amber eyes and green spiky hair that Adam dreamt about. He was clever and kind, sexy and so mysterious that even five months after first meeting, Adam knew very little about him.
Tork was grinning too, his green head tilted to one side. “You are so full of it,” he said, and then Adam was roughly pulled inside the flat.
He never knew what kind of a visit it would be—one with kissing, or one without. They had not been together very long, but it was long enough for Adam to know that when the kisses happened, the world actually stopped. Amazingly, just that was enough to keep him coming here.
Even with no fucking!
It had been about six weeks since Tork moved in, but still the flat was full of wrapped furniture, all donated by the shelter.
“Why haven’t you opened these yet?” Adam sighed at the bed, still wrapped in cellophane. “You can’t still be sleeping on the floor?”
Tork winced, and Adam bit his lips, knowing he’d probably fucked up the chances of a kiss now. But on he went.
“I just don’t get it, Tork. This stuff is yours, OK? Look how comfortable that bed would be for us.” He continued blithely, hearing himself as the blush crept up his stupid face. “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean…you know. I just…”
Tork’s dark eyebrows shot up, and Adam drew breath to say more, but then clamped his mouth shut with his hand, and stopped.
Oval-shaped caramels met Adam’s eyes. An invisible energy fizzled across the bare flat, as Tork stepped forward and gently took Adam’s hands.
“Shh,” he whispered. “You always talk too much.”
“Well, maybe, but I was just—”
“Shh.” Tork ran both hands up Adam’s arms; Adam tried desperately not to move. He felt the squirmy power of that caress in his whole body, but he wanted to not fuck it up more than he wanted the kiss.
Well, he was almost sure he did.
Tork slid a leg between his and slowly moved his hands up to Adam’s shoulders and across to his neck. Adam moved his legs farther apart and tried hard to keep his mouth from gaping. A thumb stroked the skin below his chin as Tork watched. It was crazy, but he had Adam acting like a dumb virgin, not knowing what to do or say. No one had ever made him feel this out of his depth, or this horny.
Tork’s lips started off gently, tiny kisses on Adam’s mouth, his chin, his nose, before Adam dared to move his own hands to grip Tork’s slim waist.
As Adam’s mouth was gently prised open, he heard himself whimper like a needy bird, desperate for attention.
* * *
Later on, they snuggled and watched a show on the little TV that Adam himself bought—unbeknownst to Tork. In the past, Adam had shunned this kind of closeness with others, but now it seemed to be all he could think about. Just being this close to Tork was such a victory that Adam forgot about all the shitty things he’d planned to say—ultimatums and threats, mostly.
“I brought you some stuff to look at,” he murmured, chancing his own quick kiss. “College stuff, application forms, and course details. If you fill it in now, you could still get in for January.”
Adam knew he was pushing it. Just months ago, Tork had been living on the streets, sick with bronchitis, and here he was trying to get him to go to college. And yeah, to be more normal. More…acceptable.
Tork said nothing, but he took the booklets, and Adam knew he’d look through them later.
“So how have you been? I wish you’d get a phone so I can get hold of you.”
“I am good. I go to the therapy and the meetings. Then I visit the library and change my books.”
Adam was expecting a ‘but’ and knew he would not be able to deal with it. “Good, good,” he rushed in quickly, “Mike will be totally pleased. So how about the phone? I do have an old one you can have,” he lied. He could easily buy a new one for Tork.
“Maybe one day.”
“But why not?” Adam heard the petulance slip into his voice and tried to stop it.
“I’m sorry, Adam. I…I can’t do a lot of things yet.”
Tork pulled away and crossed his arms. Adam stopped trying.
“It’s just so fucking hard to see you. I have to come all this way on the tram, and you never make any effort. We can’t even have a cup of coffee, because you won’t unpack the kettle.”
None of that was what he wanted to say.
“You don’t like coffee.”
It was true; Adam hated coffee.
“How do you know that?” he demanded. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. Actually, I fancy a big mug of steaming black coffee. It’s like the least you could do.”
Tork looked at him evenly for a minute, and Adam shook his hair back defiantly. Yeah, he was an arsehole, but nothing new there.
Take me or leave me, baby…but please take me.
“So, what are the other numbskulls in this place like?” he asked gaily, knowing how much that would piss Tork off. But Tork only narrowed one eye and stood up. Adam went to the window and pretended to look out, rubbing at his forehead viciously.
“You know there’s a cat sitting out there? Jeez, this place should be on a TV documentary,” he said, hating himself.
His visits often ended up like this. He wanted it to be so perfect, but the reality was that Tork lived here. Adam didn’t see how they could ever bridge that gap when they couldn’t even talk to one another through the misunderstandings and empty spaces.
He sighed. “I better go soon, don’t want to be waiting at that tram stop on my own, in the dark.”
He turned, and realised that he was alone.
“Tork?” he called, just as the kitchen door opened, and there he was, carrying a mug.
“Here you go. Coffee,” Tork said, handing it over with a lopsided grin.
“You opened the kettle?” Adam took the cup and sniffed at it, just to make sure. The bitter aroma of disgusting coffee swirled around his nose, making him sneer. “Urgh, coffee. Yum, just what I need.” Then, before he had time to reconsider, he added, “You did wash this cup, right?”
“Yes, you are right. I have to start opening things I closed up long ago. Now, drink every drop, or you will say I am making no effort.” Tork smiled as he slowly sat down and leaned back, arms behind his head. “And yes, I washed it. Right before I licked all around the rim.”
Adam knew he was blushing like a naughty school boy. He took a tentative sip and wondered for about the millionth time just how this dude managed to make him humiliated, guilty, and really, really hot. He didn’t even know if he liked it!
But his trousers did.
* * *
Tork
After Adam left, the flat was too quiet. He opened the window and left the cat some food. The last few days, the cat would sneak inside, eat the food and then fly off again. Maybe one day, the ginger kitty would be brave enough to stay.
Tork always tried not to go into the room where all the packages were in neat piles, but that night he was strangely drawn. Every time he thought about them, it worried him.
The bed was still wrapped in cellophane. If he opened it, it meant he was staying here, in this place where people were already getting to know him. As long as he didn’t open anything, he could slip away one night, and all these things could go to someone else.
He still slept on the floor in a s
leeping bag, so he did not become too soft.
Because he didn’t deserve anything else.
But as he kissed the cup where Adam had drunk, he knew he was slipping anyway.
Once he started opening the kitchen packages, it seemed he could not stop—ripping at cardboard and paper. There were pots and pans, plates, cutlery and a tin opener. Mike and Adam had thought of everything. There was even a radio, hidden away amongst the boxes.
Tork fiddled with it, until he found some music he recognised, and now he had an excuse to make a bowl of bubbles for washing up. The smell of pine trees and warm water sparked off memories of long ago, and soon, a tiny hint of optimism crept back into his desperation.
It almost felt like home.
After all Adam’s whining, he’d only been able to drink a few sips—the cup was still almost full. At first, Adam had fought the grimace, but with each cautious, sip his resolve weakened, until they both ended up laughing…then kissing. Even when Adam was haughty and rude, Tork couldn’t stay cross at him for long.
He remembered the college information and opened the envelope to have a look. The long list of courses entered his blood stream quicker than any alcohol, making him giddy and wanting. If only he could!
There were bank notes attached to the top by a paper clip, with a yellow stick-it saying ‘I am a mobile phone. Use me to text your boyfriend.’ It was about fifty pounds in all. Churning, uncomfortable rushes swarmed Tork. He was being ambushed by kindness again, but how could he ever begin to repay it?
He quickly gathered up the money, left it in the room with the boxes, and shut the door against it all. As he went back into the kitchen, the tiny cat was still there.
“Hello, puss,” he said gently.
Chapter Two
Adam
The banging on his door went from gentle knock to aggressive kick. It was no use; he would have to answer it. He pulled the door so hard the two guys leaning against it fell in. It was Liam and Zeph, but mostly Liam.
“What?” Adam glared, but already his resolve was wavering. After all, he didn’t have that much work to do. Not like he had any reason he couldn’t go out.
“Fuck’s sake, Adam. You deaf? C’mon, man, let’s go to the bar. You’ve been a boring fucker lately.”
“No, I—I can’t. Got to finish that essay this week,” he protested feebly, tasting lager and feeling horny as hell…noticing Liam’s tight jeans…
“Ad-am. Just come for one?” Liam smiled with shy eyes through a long brown fringe. He was just Adam’s type. At least, he used to be.
“Oh, all right then.” He smiled back easily. “I’ll meet you there?”
The minute they left, antsy bites of guilt ran up and down his arms and legs, but why shouldn’t he go? This last week, he’d volunteered two extra days at the shelter. Surely he deserved some fun?
“OK, I’ll just have one,” he reasoned, looking through his overflowing wardrobe for a fresh t-shirt. “One drink, then I’ll come back and start work. One won’t hurt.”
He slipped on the shirt and admired himself in the mirror. Not that it mattered, because he would easily be the hottest guy at the bar even if he wore a black bag.
He did glance back at the pile of work he’d neglected, but mostly what he did was bang the door so hard he almost lost the dull ache in the pit of his stomach.
Almost.
The bar was busy, even though it was a Tuesday evening. He waved gaily at the many people who rushed over to gush at him, wishing he had an invisible shield to keep them away. There was only one person he wanted clinging to his arm, and he would never come here.
He rubbed his forehead.
“Adam, you came! What can I get you?” It was Liam, pushing hair from his eyes and blushing.
“No, it’s OK. I’ll get my own.”
But of course, Adam ended up buying drinks for everyone and spending a fortune. He didn’t mind, but as he handed over the notes, a pang went through him as he remembered Tork saying how much rent he paid at Citywise. It was less than this round of drinks.
He was not going to think about any of that. Why would he, when he had all these guys surrounding him, talking about who could drink the most, how little work they’d done, how boring it all seemed…
“Adam?” Liam leaned over and took Adam’s arm.
“Sorry. What?”
“You want to go somewhere…quieter?”
Adam stared back and rubbed his forehead. “Uh, I’ll just finish my drink.”
His friends all seemed to be shitfaced, and it probably was a lot of fun for them. Sure, he could see that, but why did they all have to keep breathing foul breath at him, and spilling their drinks?
He smiled wanly at the stupid jokes and began to get cross at himself. What the hell was wrong with him? This was his favourite bar, there was a guy just gagging for it, and here Adam was, staring out the window thinking about fucking origami, green hair and benefits claims.
Tork.
“Come on, let’s do tequila. My treat!” Adam shouted loudly, and headed to the bar. He would end this now.
The tequila went down with his money, vanishing into a haze of noise and moving floors. Many shots later, he saw Liam sitting on his lap, and then suddenly Adam was wading through water in his head and pushing his way out and away.
The cold air hit him like a blast of sanity. “No, no, no,” he slurred drunkenly, and texted a taxi. He took out a load more money from the cash machine, laughing at how it all looked like paper in the wind.
Because who was he kidding? It wasn’t Liam, alcohol, or any of his friends that he wanted to see.
* * *
On the way to Citywise, it seemed absolutely vital to Adam that he make an origami cat. “My boyfriend makes these,” he said woozily, showing the folded ten-pound note cat to the taxi driver, who ignored him. “He can make anything. ’Cause, see, he is brilliant.”
Adam grinned, tasting the truth of his words, even as he felt the wishy-washy liquid in his stomach, rolling about with every turn.
“Oooh,” he groaned.
“If you throw up, it’s a twenty-pound fine,” the taxi driver barked.
“Oh no,” said Adam firmly. “No, no.” But then words evaded him, and all his vague concentration was needed to give directions.
He was not aware of the walk to Tork’s room, or the stairs. But it must have taken him a long time, because by the time he got there, everything looked much more real, and what the fuck was he doing there?
He couldn’t seem to read the time, so he just banged on Tork’s door, thinking of a funny greeting.
“Tork, baby? Daddy’s home!” he shouted.
By the time the door opened, Adam was bending over, with his trousers round his knees, waving his naked arse about and laughing hysterically, because it was just the funniest thing ever.
“S’ the man in the moon,” he called gaily to Tork, who bundled him quickly into the flat and sat him down.
“The man in the moon, huh? What have you done to yourself?” Tork brushed Adam’s hair away from his clammy face. “Your forehead is all sore.”
“I—I made you a cat,” Adam said, handing over the squashed origami.
Tork kissed him on the cheek softly, and all the wishy-washy water in Adam’s stomach turned sour as he began throwing up.
The next thing Adam knew, he felt like shit. Mega neurons were not right in his head, stomach, legs or hands. Images of Liam trying to flirt with him flitted through his brain. It was probably best not to open his eyes, in case there was much worse to come.
“Uh,” he muttered miserably, hoping it was just a dream.
“Hey,” someone said gently, “I always wondered what you looked like in the morning.”
Adam opened one eye carefully. It was Tork, thank God, thank God! Now Adam remembered leaving the bar alone and staggering into a taxi.
“Uh,” he said again, this time with more gusto.
Tork was laughing at him. His green hai
r stuck out at all angles, but even through his wretchedly ill state, Adam knew beauty when he saw it.
He opened the other eye.
He was on Tork’s sofa in a sleeping bag.
Am I naked?
Worse, did I have a boner when Tork undressed me?
Or maybe that was better, not worse?
“Oh, God,” he told Tork, who solemnly handed over a glass of water and two tablets.
“Drink this, sleeping beauty. I hope you didn’t have lectures this morning, because I couldn’t wake you. And now I want you to myself.”
Whole brigades of hot ants ran up his body at Tork’s words. Tork wanted him here… Adam obediently sipped and tried to secretly slide his other hand under the covers to see if he had clothes on. He felt underwear and met Tork’s eyes. Tork grinned, as if he knew exactly what Adam was doing.
“ Drink,” Tork ordered. “Then when you don’t look so green, I’ll make us breakfast. Greasy eggs and bacon sound OK?”
Adam giggled. Even when he felt like death, he was still putty in Tork’s hands. “Yeah, if you don’t mind me hurling. Is that a cat sitting over there?”
“Hurling again? Yes, meet my new friend Dickens.”
“I never hurled!” But Adam remembered throwing up and Tork taking care of him.
Undressing him.
Tork nodded. “Yes. Our midnight date was very exciting! First I was met by a full moon, and then howling.”
Adam buried his head under the sleeping bag. “Oh, God. That cat probably has fleas.”
He felt the sofa move as Tork clambered on and hugged him. Adam wished he didn’t feel so ill, because his heart still sped up as he snuggled in, and hugged him back. They had never been this close before. Adam’s whole body tingled with rushes and aches, but all he could safely do was groan.
“I wanted to hold you all last night, but I thought you might be sick on me,” Tork admitted, kissing his head.
“You just wanted to see me in my underwear,” Adam slurred.
“Of course, but then you took it off in the hallway, in front of all those people.”
“People?” Adam whined, but the pull of sleep thankfully saved him from remembering.